She's not going to Win
by hurrrrrr
Summary: Story explaining a little bit of how Finnick and Annie fell in love. Rated T for safety.


**I LOVE FINNICK AND ANNIE OKAY. Bless you all for continuing to read!**

**Disclaimer: THG is not mine.**

_"She's not going to win."_

Five simple words that Finnick pushed to the front of his mind.

_"She won't make it past the bloodbath."_

Staring her over, there was nothing she could really do, was there? She didn't look the least bit strong. She wouldn't get sponsors for being loud and proud, like he did – she was a little mouse, squeaking in the corner of the train as her partner – a career – did all the talking. He seemed compassionate, felt almost sorry for her, because apart from her beauty – long tousled and huge sea green eyes, in that stage between a girl and a woman that made her seem like she was beautiful and innocent at the same time – she had nothing.

"She's not going to win, Mags."

Because on that train that night, when he and Mags were sitting alone in the darkness bar a soft light from a candle perched on the table, he really put himself to believing that she was uncoachable, unwilling to win and unable – that he wouldn't have to face her, and see that look in her eyes, and feel the need to take away her pain. The Career could take care of himself. But her? She looked as if she needed a lot of help.

"She can, if you help her. Why won't you help her, Finnick?" Those words stung, just like Mags had intended them too. She knew that in the arena the handsome man in front of her had been struck with that question, when he and his District 4 partner split up, and she was killed. When he got out of there, barely alive, and was flung onto the cruel chair beside Caesar Flickerman where he was taunted with the same question.

"I can't!" He snapped. Mags didn't so much as blink.

"Can you not? Can you not help me train the girl so that she can at least have a good try at becoming a victor instead of wasting your time with the other one?"

For some reason, he held his ground. He knew Mags was right. But…it wasn't the point, was it?

"I'm not going to train her and that's final!" There was a short silence, the only sound being the distant humming of the train as it zoomed along the track.

"I guess I'll just die then."

The soft, yet very strong voice slipped through the dark air and reached their ears. In the doorway stood Annie, two tears slipping down her cheeks, shining the light of the candle. She was in her nightwear, but it didn't appear as if she had done much sleeping. She was trying hard to choke back a sob.

"Oh dear, Annie," Mags said with a sigh, shooting Finnick a 'now look what you've done' look. "Come here, sweetheart." She floated into the room in a daze, plopping down beside Finnick. He tried to ignore her.

_"She's not going to win."_

"You don't…want to train me?" Even in the low light he caught glimpse of the tears streaming down her face from her eyes. Those beautiful, huge sea green eyes…

"I…I don't want to explain," he said tiredly. But she wouldn't give up. She gripped his shirt tightly and didn't let go until he put a hand on her shoulder. "I can't, I can't explain why, I just can't. Stick to Mags, and you'll be fine."

"I haven't been a victor in a while," Mags reminded him. "You're the best chance this girl has, and you know it, Finnick. I think you owe her at least an explanation." He didn't want to explain, hadn't he just said that?

"I have to go back to my family," she said, her lip quivering up at him. "Don't take that right away from me! You can't just not train me because you don't want to. I…I'm just as good as the career! I can do stuff too! I know how swim and fish like you do, and I can use nets and even that stupid trident you think you're so amazing for being able to use! I can do it!" She was sobbing now, beating her small fists into his chest, and Finnick wasn't sure what the hell to do. He gripped her fists easily, but lightly, until she stopped struggling.

"Please don't let me die," she whimpered into his shirt. A pang hit him in his chest. That was what his district partner had told him when he found her, bleeding all over, already slipping into nothingness. And before he could stop himself, he had slipped his strong arms around her, rubbing her back and calming her down significantly.

"I won't," he murmured into the fabric of her shirt. "I promise I won't."

"Then…why won't you train me?" She whispered, wiping her eyes carefully. He sighed, and looked to Mags, who hadn't moved an inch, her expression neutral.

"I don't want to train you, then watch you die. I don't want an attachment to you in case I lose you…do you understand?" His shoulders sagged slightly as he let this out. He felt under less pressure, but now he had Annie's eyes staring up at him again.

"I do," she said firmly, the first thing she'd said since she'd came here that made him genuinely believe her. "But the only way I'll get out of there alive is if you help me. Will you help me…Finnick?" She had made the effort to remember his name. He smiled at her for the first time.

"Of course I will, Annie."

The next few days were spent showing Annie how to throw things, how to use weapons (which, Finnick had to admit, she was surprisingly good at), how to keep up her stamina, her stealth, and even tie knots, which she was extremely good at. In no time both his tributes were at equals, which annoyed the boy, as he had been training for years. It made Finnick smile as when he stood there and watched Annie, she seemed like a woman now, not the girl he had held only a few days before.

She scored 10 in her training. The boy scored 9. He congratulated them both, and had to accept Annie's hug, who had come out of her shell ever since. Before he knew it, she was being whisked away for an interview in a stunning sea green dress, the same colour as her eyes, and he could not take his eyes off her. Her answers were witty, quick, like he taught her. But they were filled with that underlying sense of shyness that was all her. He gave her a pat on the back when she came offstage, and she seemed thrilled.

And then, it was time for them to part. The boy went through first. A hug with a pat on the back, good luck, some extra advice.

Then it was down to Annie and Finnick.

They said no words until she was at the door of the underground part of the arena, ready to spend a week or more away from him and the rest of civilisation.

"Annie?" The use of her name took her by surprise, but she turned around anyway, meeting Finnick's soft gaze. She had the most beautiful smile, and it was on her lips now, even though she knew where she was going.

"Win for me." And then she was smiling from ear to ear, because it was one of the hardest requests anyone had ever asked her, but the fact that he trusted her to fulfil it made her happier than ever. And then she was gone, through the door to meet her stylist, and he made his way to the Game room.

_"She's not going to win."_

The sentence distorted itself in his mind and he forced the thought to the back of his head, replacing it with a thought that made him blush significantly.

"Annie Cresta is going to win for me."

When it came to it, she won. He had gathered sponsors, sent her as many things as she could. She hid for most of it, killing no one, but despite her great score nobody seemed to want to kill her. When she formed an alliance with her District 4 partner, it all seemed as if it was going to work out.

And it did, but not in the way Finnick had hoped

Her partner was in a brawl with the last tribute. He shot an arrow at the other tribute, and he died, but not before he swung his weapon and decapitated Annie's partner, and that was it.

She was on her knees, staring at the two dead bodies in front of her. Boom, Boom.

"Ladies and gentlemen, the winner of the sixty-ninth Hunger Games, Annie Cresta!"

But she was in a world of her own. She covered her ears to block out the fireworks that sounded so much like cannon fire, closed her eyes so as not to see the two dead bodies in front of her. She had won.

No one could bring her out of her state. No one, until, she was let out of hospital under heavy moderation, and bumped into Finnick.

"Oh, Annie," he said softly, and she hurtled into his arms. He still smelled the way he did the day she had cuddled with him on the train. His arms were still as strong and comforting, his soft words still as loving.

"They're dead," she whispered, and sobs racked her body once again. "He should have won. He was protecting me, wasn't he?" Finnick kissed the top of her head.

"No, Annie," he said. "He was saving you till last so he could murder you and go back to his district rich. It's what they all do, and you know it." She calmed down a little, forgetting the arena for a while as Finnick held her close, tightly, so nobody could take her from him ever again.

"I kept my promise," she said, and for some reason, they both laughed.

"You did, Annie. I'm proud of you." And when he leaned down to press his lips against hers, she didn't feel any guilt or pain. Only love for the man who had saved her life twice in the past two weeks.

_"She's not going to win."_ He thought of it again, as he carried her back to her hospital bed and lay with her until morning, but this time the voice was tiny, doubtful. Her sleeping form looked peaceful. He smoothed out parts of her hair and sighed, because in the morning they would see the Capitol.

"She will," he whispered to himself, beginning to drift off in the silence of her room. "I love her too much to let her lose."


End file.
